Monday, September 1, 2008

being back in Minnesotais being back in who i was 3 months agowithout ever hitting 88 on the freeway home

leaving the house as a shamed pupi take off my shoes so they stop tearing at my anklesand walk night sidewalksthat will be buried 3 feet cold in another 3 monthsmy feet are so sensitive that i have to walk on the gutter

i think about Katieand about old money and the smell of her Kentucky airand my fingers spread at my sidein a phantom romantic gesture

i sob uncontrollably on the swingset at the parki twitch when she says she now makes love

risorial muscles twitchspasms like a dying insectwhen the station is set to static hissmy eyes water in hedonistic blissor the wild eye fear of a star slaughtered cowat the sound of the wet death at the head of rowand like cracked falling leaves from a boughmy brain body disconnect is out of control